


Degrade Me Until You Hate Me

by anemic_cinema



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rape, Unrequited Love, Violence, unrequited Daryl/Glenn, unrequited shane/rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane uses Daryl because he can't have what he wants, and Daryl goes along with it because he figures he deserves it.</p><p>Trigger warning/content warning: rape, homophobic language, coercion through fear, physical violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Degrade Me Until You Hate Me

Shane can't decide what makes him more furious, the fact that Daryl lets him do whatever he wants to him, or the fact that the redneck doesn't look at him while he does it. It's not like they do what they do out of love or tenderness for each other, but it still pisses him off. He hates how Daryl just stares off, looking like he's thinking about anything else than being fucked by Shane. That's why when they meet up Shane has taken to fucking him from behind. Then at least he doesn't have to see his eyes glazing over and staring off into space.

It still infuriates him. When they'd first started to fuck around Shane wasn't this angry. He didn't have Lori anymore, and Daryl was kind of appealing in that stoic way. And surprise, surprise, the redneck had been willing, at first. 

Willing to do just about anything the former cop found out. He'd been so quick to go down on his knees that Shane wondered how many times he'd done it before. How often had Daryl let other men use him like this? He had the kind of face that implied some past delicacy under the hardness. Other men must have seen it and wanted it too, not just Shane. It turns him on and disgusts at the same time. It's so pathetic, seeing this supposed tough guy crouching in front of him or bent over, willing to let Shane fuck him like he was a whore in a alleyway. But as time has passed, it doesn't feel like Daryl is so willing anymore. 

Shane gets off on that though. He never considered himself to be capable of cruelty, but now he saw the use of it. It was a way to protect yourself when everything else was too painful. It gives you power when you have none. 

Since they'd arrived at the farm, Shane had decided the stables would be a good enough place to meet. The barn was closed off for whatever reason, and Shane felt it was appropriate. What they did didn't deserve any kind of nice accommodations. So there they are, under the cover of the night, in an empty stall, surrounded by bales of hay. Shane uses them to lean up against them as he fucks Daryl's mouth. At this point he just takes what he wants from the other man. His logic being that if Daryl didn't really want it, he'd just leave, right? It's not like he's some weakling, too frail to say no. So he tells him to go on his knees, holds on to his head still by the hair, and uses his mouth.

The former cop can see Daryl gag on his cock, and it makes him want to see him choke. Tightening his grasp, he forces the redneck to take the entire length of his cock down his throat until his balls are being scratched by his stubbly chin. Shane sees Daryl's hands scrabbling, trying to push away, he hears the panicked noises that come when you can't breathe, but the man in front of him doesn't look up to plead for mercy. Instead his eyes are screwed shut. Shane lets him go, pushing him away from his cock. Strands of spit hang from it, connecting Daryl's mouth to it until he starts to cough, gasping for breath. 

“Pathetic.” Shane mutters contemptuously, grabbing a hold of Daryl's hair again and forcing his face against his cock. He can feel Daryl's tongue lap at it, the violence of what he's just done to him obviously still not enough to make him want to leave. 

“Get that dick good and wet, 'cause spit is all you're gonna get tonight.” That makes Daryl glance up at him. His eyes are filled with anger, but he doesn't stop. 

“You're gonna let me do whatever the fuck I wanna do to you.” Daryl alternates between licking and spitting on Shane's cock, trying to coat it with as much saliva as he can produce, knowing that the former cop means every word he's saying. And it's true. He is going to let Shane do whatever the fuck he wants. 

Shane pulls away and grabs him by the armpits, forcing him to his feet and face first against the hay. Daryl still isn't saying anything, or resisting. Shane takes that lack of no as a yes. He pulls the redneck's hips back, making his ass stick out and pulling down his pants. In a moment of mercy, Shane kneels down behind him, spreading his cheeks. Daryl tenses because he can't see just what the hell the other man is doing. Then he feels fingers at his hole, spreading it open. He hears the sound of spitting, and feels the saliva hit him. 

Shane keeps it up, spitting on Daryl hole and then pushing his fingers in. When he gets it to gape open for a second he spits directly into it, and he thinks he can hear what sounds like a grunt from the other man. Shane gets back up, and spits into his hand, spreading it over his cock since Daryl's spit has mostly dried. He knows this isn't enough, but as far as he's concerned it's all the redneck deserves. 

Shane presses the head of his cock against Daryl's hole, and pushes his way in. It's tight with no proper lubrication, but it feels good for Shane at least. For Daryl, well, at this point he doesn't give a fuck if it makes him feel good or if it hurts him. Shane never really cared if the redneck got off or not when they started, though it was kinda nice to see him cum. When Daryl gets close to coming he starts biting his lips, and his tongue darts out to wet them in a way that Shane liked. But that doesn't happen anymore. Shane can't remember the last time Daryl's orgasmed while being fucked.

The former cop starts to move, pulling out before pushing back in. Occasionally he lets spit drip from his mouth down onto his cock to make it easier on himself. It provides the bare minimum of comfort. Daryl always feels so tight, Shane figures he couldn't have done this often, if at all in the past. He likes to think that he's the first man to fuck the redneck's ass. It thrills him.

Daryl grunts and occasionally cries in pain out when Shane pushes in too hard, his shoulders slumping forward. When the noises coming from him get too loud Shane bends down over him, holding one hand over his mouth, the other on his throat. Daryl still doesn't fight back, and Shane fucks him harder. He can feel the redneck's muffled cries against his hands, and any sense of shame about this getting him hard is long left behind. He forces his fingers into Daryl's mouth and tightens his grip on his throat. The redneck doesn't even try to bite down on the invading digits or to get out of his grip. It's like fucking a rag-doll.

“Why don't you fight back?” He hisses, his mouth against Daryl's ear. “You could fight back, say no.” Shane can feel himself getting close now. “Why don't you?” He keeps pounding into the redneck, any worries about his comfort long gone. “It's 'cause you're a pathetic fag that can't get what he wants, isn't it?” If he's talking about himself or Daryl, Shane can't remember at this point. “ You'd like this better if I was that Korean kid, wouldn't you?” 

Daryl's teeth bite down on Shane's fingers hard for a moment before his jaws go slack. Anyone who pays attention can see how he looks at Glenn. Glenn doesn't see him, never did and never will. For good reason, he's been so damn hard on the kid, calling him awful things even though he thought of him so tenderly. Even though the redneck wanted to, he couldn't reach out for the other man. There was too much guilt, and too much fear. When they got to the farm, and Glenn started looking at Maggie, Daryl knew for certain that there was nothing he could do. He'd fucked it up, and there was no going back to fix it. The reminder of that makes his body feel heavy and worthless. Shane can do whatever he wants to him, it's not like it matters anyway.

Shane stops talking, all of his concentration turned to coming. When he does, he stays inside of Daryl, pumping his hips as he cums. Daryl flinches as he feels the spurts and throbs inside of him. He hates it when Shane does that, but there's no doubt in his mind that he doesn't merit any kind of consideration. He knows he's just a hole for Shane to fuck his loneliness into, so he doesn't get to complain. 

A sick grin spreads across Shane's face as he pulls out and sees a little bit of his cum seeping out from Daryl's hole. It's satisfying, because even if the other man won't look at him or respond to his touch, he's still left his mark inside of him. The redneck drops down to the floor, not bothering to pull his pants up. He's hurting, bad, but he knows it will pass. It always does. As Shane cleans himself up, the man on the floor lets out a derisive chuckle.

“The fuck you laughing at?”

Daryl looks up at him, and his eyes are so filled with disgust it would infuriate Shane if the man wasn't sitting on the dirty ground with his pants around his knees with Shane's load dripping out of him. “You. You got some fuckin' nerve callin' me a fag when yer the one who likes to have his dick in my mouth.” He shifts, wiping Shane's cum from himself and on to the ground before pulling his pants up. “And my ass.” The laughter coming from him is bitter and hard. “And yeah, maybe I am pathetic, but yer worse.”

“Am I now?” Shane smirks, amused at this display of useless anger. This isn't the first time one of their little encounters has ended like this, and yet every time Shane tells the redneck to meet him, he shows up. Shane figures that he likes being treated this way. 

Daryl hauls himself up, bracing himself against the bales of hay.“Yeah. At least I don't fuck others 'cause I can't get what I want.”

Shane's brow furrows and a bitter taste invades the back of his throat. “You have no idea what you're talking about you goddamn idiot.”

“Don't I?” Daryl advances and gets face to face with Shane, only inches away from him. “At least I ain't never fucked my best friend's wife 'cause I couldn't have him.” 

When the punch lands on his stomach, Daryl isn't surprised. Bringing up Rick with Shane is a surefire way to make him see red. The wind knocked out of him, Daryl falls back and grasps onto the hay for support. Shane knows how and where to hit to cause the maximum amount of pain for the minimum amount of bruising. Being a cop taught him that.

“You shut the fuck up.” Shane's voice is shaking with fury, and Daryl couldn't be happier. It's a small revenge, but it still counts. Shane stands there, his fists balled up, resisting the urge to beat the hell out of Daryl for that little comment. The redneck is smarter than he gives him credit for. He hates him so goddamn much for it, for knowing exactly what wound to stick his filthy fingers in. Slamming the stall door behind him, Shane strides out of the stables, leaving startled horses and Daryl still laughing despite being doubled over from the punch behind him. 

When Daryl looks up he's alone, thank god. He sinks back down to the floor, the sound of nickering and horsey breath being exhaled so much more comforting than the sound of another person's voice. The smells of horses and the sweetness of hay and alfalfa are invasive, but welcome. His eyes drift over the stall, and focus on a knot in the wood of the stall door. All he can do is stare, his mind hazy and his body feeling like it's not really there. The pattern of the wood around the knot is curved. The knot itself is black against the paler wood. His body feels like it doesn't exist at all even though his heart's still beating and his gut is still hurting from the punch. 

This isn't a new sensation. Growing up like he did, Daryl learned how to not be there, how to let himself drift off. It came in handy when his dad would come home drunk as hell and aching for a fight, and it comes in handy now when Shane fucks him. At first he didn't mind it. The attention was kind of nice, and he got off from the sex. But Shane's become more dangerous, like all of his worse traits have been let loose by the chaos of the world. 

As tough as Daryl tries to be, he's afraid of what might happen if he turns the other man down. Some things you have to fear if you want to save your skin. Wild animals, walkers, people who resemble both even though they're still alive and look human. It's just easier to let it happen than to refuse it, and let his mind go somewhere else. Somewhere more pleasant. Somewhere where there's Glenn, and where Daryl isn't the biggest fuck up left alive. He just hopes Shane will lose interest in him sooner than later. Other people usually have pretty quickly. 

Eventually Daryl makes himself get up and return to his tent. The night air is getting colder, which gives him something to focus on besides the things that have happened tonight. His tent is far away from everybody else, just the way he likes it. Soon, Daryl is laying down on his cot, looking up at the nylon ceiling of the tent. 

Sleep isn't coming easy tonight, so he thinks about something nice, something far removed from all the bullshit. He imagines sitting next to Glenn, somewhere deep in the woods, where it's good and safe and no one can get you. Glenn talking to him, having forgiven all of Daryl's past transgressions against him, and telling him stupid jokes. The kid's pretty funny when he wants to be. Sometimes, when Daryl thinks of the funny shit he's said he starts to smile, and sometimes he even laughs. He only does that when no one is around him though. He doesn't need anyone thinking he's cracking up, laughing to himself when there's nothing really to laugh at.

In his mind, Glenn is leaning against him, his head on his shoulder. His thick black hair would probably tickle his neck. Maybe he'd even have his arm around Daryl's shoulders. The redneck turns onto his side. It's so fucking stupid, but sometimes when he thinks about this kind of thing his eyes start to well up. He swallows it down and rubs his eyes, because as far as he's concerned he may be a sad excuse for a faggot, but he's no pussy. So what if Glenn's never gonna want him or care about him? Doesn't give him a reason to cry about it like a goddamn baby.

Daryl closes his eyes, trying to focus on the image of Glenn with his arm around him. It doesn't feel right imagining someone being gentle to him. The redneck has never had any illusions as to what he deserves from others. All his life the same thing has been driven home into his being. He knows no one is going to be kind, or sweet, or tender to him at all. Even just thinking that someone could is absolutely ridiculous.

But he still thinks of Glenn being kind towards him, holding his hand. Not making Daryl do anything he doesn't really want to do. He doesn't think about fucking the other man, that's too painful. Daryl figures Glenn wouldn't want him like that, want his pathetic, gnarled body that barely feels real. He's been used up too many times to be worth that kind of affection from someone like Glenn. Someone who has goodness in their heart instead of cruelty. But maybe Glenn would be willing to hold him, and that would be good enough. Just the thought of being in his arms, being touched by those pretty hands that are so smooth and unworn compared to Daryl's, is the best thing the older man can think of. 

In the darkness of the night that's some measure of comfort.


End file.
